Catalina’s smile goes smug and satisfied, biting her lower lip.
I choke on my own spit.
“OH, WHAT THE FUCK!” I yell, stumbling back with a hand clapped over my ears. “Are you kidding me?”
Carter smirks as Catalina giggles into his chest.
“I’m serious,” I groan, gagging dramatically. “I need bleach for my brain.
Catalina shoos me away. “Go, I need to get pregnant like right now.”
I gag again, walking toward the front door as Catalina calls after me. “Tell Amelia I love her!”
amelia
Salty air surrounds me as the warm sun beats down on my shoulders, while the Pacific crashes in lazy, foamy curls beside us.
Moss Cove smells exactly how it did the first time we came here together: salt, seaweed, and that faint sweetness of drying kelp baking in the sun.
My bare feet sink into the damp sand with each step,the grit cool between my toes as I bend down to sift through shells half-buried in the shoreline. Maverick’s a few feet away, crouched low, one big hand brushing sand aside.
He glances over his shoulder at me, grinning like an idiot, then turns back to carve ‘Mav loves Amelia’ in big, messy letters. Afterwards, he adds a crooked heart underneath, and when I catch him, he sticks his tongue out at me.
“Really?” I call out.
“Don’t act like you’re not taking a picture of this in your head right now,” he shoots back, smug.
“I’m not,” I lie.
He stands, brushing sand from his palms. “Stand still for a second.”
Suspicious, I stop moving.
He pulls out his camera, squinting at the glare off the water. “Perfect lighting. Don’t move. You’ll thank me later when this becomes my lock screen.”
Shot after shot, he’s muttering things like, “Damn, you look good,” and “Okay, tilt your head a little, dollfacee,” until my cheeks feel warm for reasons that have nothing to do with the sun.
When he’s satisfied, we continue further down the shoreline. The sand squeaks softly beneath our feet, and our shadows stretch out in front of us. His arm brushes against mine intentionally enough to show he’s doing it on purpose.
He’s barefoot too, with grey sweatpants slouched low on his hips, a plain white tee stretched across his chest, and a baseball cap pulled low so I can only see the curve of his grin when he looks at me.
“I knew you thought I was pretty,” he says casually.
I roll my eyes, shoving him lightly in the ribs. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“Mm, maybe. But I’m still your favorite.”
“Sureeeeee.”
He stops walking and stares at me until I’m fighting a laugh. “Go on, tell me who’s better looking.”
I tilt my head up to meet his gaze. “You’re fishing for compliments now?”
“Only from you.” He smirks. “You ready for Georgia?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good.” His mouth quirks up, that boyish charm impossible to ignore. “Ready to be my cheerleader, Mrs. Hayes?”
